04c Dreams of Fire and Gods: Gods (22 page)

“Thuna!” a woman’s voice exclaimed. From behind the emperor, an old
ömem
in black robes and a veil seemed to glide silently forward. “She disappeared that night, and we have heard nothing of her fate.”

The
vek
bowed to her respectfully. “Elder Sister Raeh, Sister Thuna was murdered not two leagues from the city gates. Sael and Master Geilin were forced to bury her body before fleeing to Harleh.”

“That is terrible news, though we have suspected she was dead. But the attack was not
samöt
.” If it had been, then of course the
ömem
would have known of it.

“No, Sister,” Worlen said. “My son left gü-Khemed hurriedly and in secret. There would have been too little time to arrange a formal contract.” As everyone in the court knew, a
samöt
contract could take several days to negotiate before the Sisterhood was satisfied with the terms of payment.

“Your son and his party were attacked by bandits,” Savön snarled. “Nothing more sinister than that.”

It was clear, however, that the old
ömem
was no longer convinced. She bowed slightly to the
vek
and turned her back on the emperor. As she glided back to her seat beside the throne, the atmosphere in the room changed slightly. The soldiers in the room—both the emperor’s men and the
vek
’s—lowered their weapons, sensing they were no longer a part of this.

Worlen took another step forward, until he was standing at the foot of the steps leading up to the emperor’s dais. “You assassinated my eldest son, attempted to assassinate my youngest
twice
… and then laid siege to Harleh. You have wronged the House of Menaük, and the law gives me the right to challenge you openly.”

“The law?” Savön scoffed. “I
am
the law.”

“I’m afraid that isn’t quite the case, Your Majesty,” Worlen countered easily. “There are some laws that bind even the emperor. Isn’t that so, Chancellor?”

Chancellor Djalleh looked extremely uncomfortable at being placed on the spot, but he answered with a nervous glance at the emperor, “I… believe that is so, Your Grace. The Imperial Charter of the Third Dynasty—”

But Savön cut him off. “Your accusations are without merit, Worlen. You have no proof that I ordered the assassination of anyone in your house.”

While the emperor continued to argue that the
vek
had so many enemies, any one of the noble houses might have ordered assassination attempts against him, Donegh heard Marik’s voice in his head.
Tell them! You were sent to assassinate Sael dönz Menaük on the emperor’s order. Confirming that will solidify Worlen’s claim.

I can’t betray my contract
.

You are no longer bound by your oaths to the Brotherhood
, Marik insisted.
If Worlen kills the emperor without a legitimate claim, he will never be able to legally claim the throne.

Donegh had been bound to secrecy by the Brotherhood for almost half his life. Breaking those oaths wasn’t something he could do easily, even knowing that his connection to the Brotherhood had been permanently severed. But if he had any purpose at all now, it lay in serving Marik and the
vek
.

Donegh pushed his way out of the crowd gathered near the east wall until he was clearly visible in the open space in the center of the throne room. Then he bowed low.

The emperor hesitated in his tirade and looked at Donegh with curiosity. The
vek
followed the man’s gaze to find the assassin just a short distance away, and when Donegh glanced up, he saw Worlen watching him with a satisfied smile.

“You have something to add to the conversation, Donegh?” Worlen asked him.

“Yes, Your Grace,” Donegh replied, straightening, but keeping his eyes lowered. “I was the
samöt
contracted to assassinate your youngest son, Sael
dönz
Menaük.”

“And who contracted you?”

“Emperor Savön
dönz
Nesharr.”

Murmurs broke out among the nobles and warriors in the throne room, but Savön shouted above them, “What a farce! As if you would react so calmly to this announcement, Worlen, if you hadn’t planned it!”

The
vek
turned to him. “I did already know of Donegh’s part in the assassination attempt, Your Majesty. We have out of necessity become allies. However, I was unaware of his intention to confess publicly.”

“The boy was
samöt
,” the old
ömem
hissed, coming forward once again, “but he disappeared from our Sight. What has happened to you, Donegh?”

As far as Donegh knew, word of the Taaweh had yet to reach the capital, so it seemed pointless to explain that he’d allied himself to them. “It’s difficult for me to explain, Elder Sister. But the link to the Sisterhood has been severed, and because of that I am now cut off from the Brotherhood as well.”

“A pity,” Raeh replied. “You may find that breaking your oaths has far-reaching consequences—for you, as well as for the kingdom.”

What she meant, he knew, was that a contract might be placed upon his own head in the near future. This saddened him, but he wasn’t frightened. He’d been taught never to fear death. “I understand. But I swear before the emperor and his court that what I said was the truth.”

The old
ömem
merely nodded to him and retreated once again. Though she’d said nothing, her silence was confirmation enough for those present. For the first time since the
vek
’s arrival, Donegh saw fear in Savön’s eyes—the fear of a man who knew he was cornered.

Worlen drew his sword and raised it. “Before the Lord High Chancellor and the royal court, I challenge you, Emperor Savön
dönz
Nesharr, to defend your honor!”

G
ONIM
had thought he was safely across the boundary—or what he assumed was the boundary, since he was out from under that oppressive blue cloud cover—when Koreh literally leapt out of the ground and tackled him. He shouted in rage and frustration as they tumbled down the hill in the direction of Harleh’s camp, too busy trying to free himself to give more than a passing thought to how impossible that should have been.

A moment later, he felt himself being yanked up into the air like a fish on a hook, while Koreh stared up at him in shock. Then the ground exploded in a flash of blinding light and incredible heat. Gonim instinctively clenched his eyes shut, but the insides of his lids were illuminated bright orange, and he felt the heat of the blast licking at his skin.

Then he was flying through the air, not in a graceful arc like a
vönan
, but tumbling end over end as forest and sky and rocky cliffs flashed in and out of his vision. He was unable to scream, since he’d clamped his mouth shut in an attempt to prevent himself from vomiting, but pathetic whimpering noises were issuing from his throat.

You are safe
, Imen’s voice reassured him.

That was good to know, but his body wasn’t convinced. He was hyperventilating, and if he’d still had a heart, it would no doubt have been pounding hard enough to break his ribcage.

Suddenly he was falling. A massive stone structure like a temple slipped in and out of his vision for a moment, but he was far more preoccupied by the rocky mountaintop rushing at him. Gonim managed a brief scream, but in an instant it was over. His feet struck the ground, and he fell forward onto his hands and knees. He stayed in that position for a long time, while the contents of his stomach continued to tumble end over end and he struggled to keep them from spilling onto the ground.

Eventually, Gonim was able to stand, though his legs were wobbly. Despite his rapid descent, the only injuries he’d sustained were slight scrapes on his palms and knees. But though he’d somehow managed not to throw up, this was small consolation. Standing had made him realize his loincloth was… badly soiled.

The gods were repulsed by human bodily functions, but fortunately Imen did not seem angry with him. He heard her voice in the back of his mind say
I have sent some of my servants to clean you. Remove your clothes. You cannot enter the Great Hall in that linen rag, even if it were clean.

The Great Hall? The abode of the gods and the worthy dead? Gonim felt his stomach clench up anew as he looked around him for any sign of the fabled dwelling. He saw nothing but rocks with small patches of grass between them, like the one he’d landed in, and tall jagged mountain peaks in the distance. Yet hadn’t he glimpsed something like a temple as he fell? Far to the south lay the great Pontu Wall, and he realized with terror that he was looking at it from the
wrong
side, from the land humans had always been forbidden to visit in life.

I’m not worthy to be here!

There was a hilltop to the north, and over this, two women, beautiful but of the same large scale as Imen and dressed in much simpler gowns of pure white, came carrying stoneware pitchers and white cloths. They approached and bowed slightly. One said, “Please remove your garments.”

Gonim kicked himself for not having already done so and quickly stripped off his robe and soiled loincloth. The women poured scented water over him from the pitchers and bathed him. Thankfully, they did this without comment, or Gonim might have died on the spot from the humiliation. When they were finished, they tossed the last of the cloths onto the pile containing his robe. One of the women made a gesture and the pile burst into flame.

Well, I could use a new robe anyway
, Gonim thought as the women walked away and gestured for him to follow.

At the crest of the hill, Gonim was once again struck with awe and not a little fear. At the far end of an immaculately manicured expanse of marble walkways and gardens was an enormous building with a pillared portico and statues of winged figures adorning the roof. The entire thing was such a pure white that it appeared to glow in the light of Atnu.

Gonim hurried to catch up to the women as they strode along the walkways. Off to their left and right were other buildings resembling barracks or temples, but all were dwarfed by the building in the center. The servant women followed the main path directly to this building, and then climbed the steps leading up to its massive double doors. Each step came almost up to Gonim’s knees, forcing him to hop up them. At the top, two massive men guarded the doorway. They were naked, so Gonim felt a bit less self-conscious about his own nudity. The women nodded to the guards, and the men shouted to someone inside. The heavy iron-reinforced doors creaked on their hinges as they slowly swung inward.

As soon as they’d stepped inside, the two women knelt and prostrated themselves. Imen was standing before them, regarding Gonim with an unreadable expression. He scrambled to kneel, but she clucked at him impatiently.

“Follow me,” she said. “I wish to speak with you.”

She turned and walked away, leaving Gonim to catch up with her. The two servant women remained behind.

The hall was immense—larger even than the once-proud temple of Worlen, before it had been reduced to burnt rubble. Marble pillars as thick at their base as the height of two men stretched upward to a vaulted ceiling lost in the shadows high above them. In the distant walls, stained-glass windows glowed in a vast array of colors.

“The boy—Koreh,” Imen said as she walked. “You saw him appear in the pond. And you fought with him outside that accursed Taaweh boundary.”

She seemed to expect a response, so Gonim said, “Yes, Your Majesty.”

“I know him, as I know all humans who live and die under the watch of the Eyes. I saw his birth. I saw the deaths of his parents, of his brother and sisters. I saw him ill with the most recent bout of plague. It is true that he recovered, but many do. And he was left scarred by it. I’ve seen him on the edge of starvation, gravely wounded. In every aspect, he has thus far appeared to be mortal.” She stopped and turned to face Gonim. “How is it that he is not?”

“Your Majesty?” he asked nervously. He hoped the question was rhetorical, because he had no answer. Clearly, the goddess knew far more about this Koreh person than he did.

“I thought he died when he fell into the chasm,” she went on, turning to continue her walk through the center of the hall. Gonim fell into step, his long legs pumping hard to keep pace with her stride. “No human could have survived that.
She
”—Imen spit out the word with a look of disgust passing over her beautiful face—“would have me believe he did die and has now somehow been resurrected. I find that difficult to accept. It seems more likely she found a way to save his life. Yet he survived two direct attacks from His Majesty.”

It took Gonim a moment to realize she meant the king of the gods, King Caednu. The fireball that struck the hillside must have come from him. Koreh had survived it?

“More Taaweh magic?” Imen asked herself. “Perhaps. But Koreh has no scars now….”

They had come to a cavernous space with a massive stone throne on a raised dais at the far end and a domed ceiling high above them. Imen stopped walking, but Gonim was so awestruck he barely noticed. He drifted forward, his eyes riveted on the dome. For it wasn’t merely stone or metal that arched over him. A seemingly infinite starscape slowly wheeled overhead, sharper than any starry night he’d ever seen. The brightest of them formed the constellations he was familiar with—The Emperor’s Chariot, The Three Maidens, The Kikid, The Sword of Khalon—but in between these were so many other stars he’d never seen, even through the lenses of the telescopes in the Worlen observatory.

“This is the throne room,” Imen said. He turned to look at her, afraid he might have annoyed her by entering the room ahead of her. But she was smiling as she joined him in the center of the room. “It is beautiful, isn’t it?”

“Words fail me, Your Majesty,” he replied.

Imen swept her arm over her head in a gesture that encompassed the entire starscape. “This is the Perfect Order, the one thing all of us are subject to—even the Stronni.” She indicated Stronni men sitting on the floor around the circumference of the room. “These scribes study the stars and attempt to divine the pattern in the Order, that we might align ourselves with it in everything we do.”